


Time After Time

by thereichenfall



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Parentlock, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereichenfall/pseuds/thereichenfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Fall, Sherlock Holmes goes into hiding, with a little help from a pathologist. Little does he know that frequent nights of passion have their consequences and in order to protect the thing they both love most, Molly Hooper has to disappear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time After Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sherlockwinking](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sherlockwinking).



It all started with a kiss, a single kiss to his pathologist before he left London the day he died. It all started with a kiss of gratitude, a kiss of thanks to show how much her loyalty had meant to him. Three months into his death, he realised how much she meant to him and he couldn’t get the image of her out of his mind. He found himself circulating back to London after every mission, visiting her, making sure she was still safe and then finally, it was his last mission, the one mission he hadn’t expected to make it home from, to make it home to his pathologist. He burst through the doors of St. Bartholomew’s hospital, expecting to find her there, working, hair draped over one shoulder as it so often was now, but instead he found a tall, gangly man there.

 

“Can I help you?” he was asked, the man’s voice fresh, young, squeaky.

 

Sherlock blinked, shaking his head and making his way over to his pathologist’s office, finding it had been cleared and instead of the Dr. Molly Hooper plaque that sat there, a Dr. Tom Baker was sitting there. He fought the urge to pick it up and smash it. This was his pathologist’s office, not this Tom’s office. He made his way out of the hospital without a word, cocking his coat collar up and bursting out into the rainy weather. How apt, he thought to himself, his expression stormy, and in that moment, he vowed to find his pathologist. Whatever it took, he would find her.

 

_“Molly Hooper,” his voice breathed low into her ear as his hips rolled up to meet hers. His breath was hot on hers, his tongue wet and heavy in her mouth as their bodies intertwined in more ways than one. “Molly Hooper, you are the one that has always counted…” His words were soft and sweet to her ears, an apt juxtaposition for the harsh words he usually reserved for those he deemed beneath him._

_It felt like hours before they are finished, Molly covering him, wholly spent and sleeping, dark brown locks plastered to her forehead. He kissed her then, before he left, promising that he would always come back for her, that no matter where he went, who hurt him and how badly he was hurt, he would come back to her. He moved her off of him gently, pressing a final, gentle kiss to her forehead, moving the sweaty brown hair out of her face, covering her and leaving her for the final time._

 

That was over a year ago and now that he had finally come back, his pathologist had disappeared into thin air. He had paid a visit to her flat, finding it soul-destroyingly empty, devoid of his pathologist’s cheery décor, devoid of the bed they had spent their final night in. She hadn’t even left a note. Nothing of her lingered in London, not since she had left. The only thing she had left was her memory, and even that was faint, drifting, fading, and dimming, with each passing day, hour, minute, second.

 

Photos cover his walls, threads connecting the ones that intertwine with the last appearances of the pathologist. He had asked all of her friends, all of their friends, when she had disappeared. They all told him the same answer; December 31, two weeks after he had left for the final time, before he had left for Serbia. It finally clicked in his mind, the detail he had forgotten in the midst of their passion, the one thing he forgot to do and it all made sense. The running, the vanishing, the disappearing. She was pregnant.

 

Her new home was just as cheery, the walls a simple buttercup yellow, living room set up with a plain brown sofa, a small television set, several paintings dotting the walls. The kitchen was just as simple as her old one, the only appliances that she owned being an oven, a dishwasher, a refrigerator and a coffee maker. She looked more tired, dark circles under her eyes, her hair perpetually in a messy ponytail or bun, jumpers and blouses continuously haphazardly thrown on, until she left to go to work. Her son was crying in the other room, wanting his mother, wanting to be fed, and she let out a small little sigh before going into the nursery, the walls a dark, royal blue with little giraffes, lions, elephants, hippopotamuses dotting them.

 

Soothing her son, she walked him to his high chair, feeding him, dressing him, making sure he was comfortable before getting herself ready for school. School. It was something she’d had to get used to. She’d taken up teaching at a local child’s care center when she had initially come to Aldeburgh. The town was small enough that no one questioned her arrival, nor her status as a single mother, for which she was grateful for. She gave science experiments, simple ones, easy ones, non-dangerous ones, to the children there,  much to their great amusement.

 

And thus continued her life in the town, and her son grew and grew. News of Sherlock’s miraculous resurrection did not make it to her town, and Molly never returned to London, content with her new life, content with her privacy, content with her son. She felt at home in Aldeburgh, more than ever she had when she was in London.

 

He never ceased his search for her, the case of the missing pathologist taking up much of his time. He loved her, he was convinced of this, and he wouldn’t ever stop looking for her. It took him ages, ages he could have spent with the son he didn’t know about, for him to find her, and finally, with Mycroft’s begrudging help, he found her. He found her in a pathetically small town, one he had figured would never suit her, but then again, his pathologist always managed to surprise him.

 

_“I need you to stay,” she whispered as she traced fine curlicues on his chest. “I want you to stay here, stay safe with me, but I know you have to go do this and I know you’re almost done.”_

_He captured her lips with a sweet kiss, promising that he would be back before she knew it, and she made him promise. The words were sweet, tumbling from his mouth. “I promise, Molly Hooper, that I will always come home to you.” He caught her hands in his before flipping her over, pinning himself over her, trailing kisses from her lips all the way down her neck, making every man that could possibly come across her to know that she belonged to him. He pressed into her gently again, their love-making slow and passionate, even though the time spent between each other was harried and quick, far too much to either of their liking._

 

The year and a half she spent out of London was by far the sweetest amount of time she had spent anywhere. The small, seaside town was lovely, fresh and she knew she had found a home here. She had also made a few new friends, ones who didn’t know about her past as a pathologist, or his pathologist, specifically. They were kind and sweet and never asked her about her child’s father. She played the part of a grieving girlfriend well...because, for all she knew, she was a grieving girlfriend. The one man she had ever loved, ever would love was still abroad, or dead. She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know, lest he really were dead.

 

Her son’s first birthday was beautiful; little dinosaurs decorated her relatively new home and she even had his favourite flavour cake. She had found it out quickly when she had indulged in a little chocolate surprise for herself. Unfortunately for her, she found that little William also enjoyed chocolate cake, so mother and son enjoyed it both together.

 

_Molly put down her chocolate cake on the table in front of her. William was just learning to walk and she’d left him strapped in her high chair. She turned her back for a moment, to wash her hands before eating. Helping toddlers with their science experiments that day had been quite messy, not that she minded, but she heard a gentle “nom nom nom,” just like the Cookie Monster they always watched together, and she turned back to see her son with chocolate icing and cake all over his mouth and cheeks. She laughed and grabbed a paper towel to clean up her son’s face, tickling him as she did so, and before she knew it, they were both having fits of giggles and messing around with chocolate cake._

 

The doorbell rang, and the first guest was there. Molly opened the door, freezing when she saw the person standing there. “Hello, Molly Hooper” were the first three words he spoke to her, his voice a broken rumble, his body statuesque as ever, his curls still as dark and soft as she remembered.

 

“Sherlock,” she breathed, her hand covering her heart as she slowed the racing. “You’re...you’re back! You’re alive...you’re alive!”

She flew into his arms, capturing his lips in a kiss as he stared, dumbfounded for the first time in his life, at his year and a half old son sitting in the chair, brown eyes large and curious as he watched the scene unfold before him.

 

“You’re a very hard woman to track down,” he told her, still staring at the little boy. “It took me months, Molly, months that we could have spent together.”

 

Her teeth nibble at her lip, feeling guilty for leaving, for not telling him, but then she reminded herself that it had been worth it, that if she had stayed, there would have been questions, questions about her son’s father, questions about why he looked so much like a dead detective.

 

“You were dead,” she finally mustered out. “And he looks like you. I had to leave.”

  
He composed himself quickly, blinking at her words, nodding that he understood, but also to tell her that now he was here, now he would assume responsibility for his actions. She flung her arms around him again, bathing his face in kisses as guests were beginning to arrive, her new friends staring in confusion at the man she was kissing. She broke away with a flush, tugging Sherlock with her, ready to begin their lives together as a family.


End file.
